


My First Kiss

by manglekin



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Awkward First Times, Best Friends, Bleeding, Bleeding Out, Blood, CPR, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Gangs, Gore, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Heartbreaking, M/M, M/M/M, Male Homosexuality, Mild Gore, Multi, One-Sided Attraction, Special Ops, Violence, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 19:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12754422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manglekin/pseuds/manglekin
Summary: Gerry ponders why Rodney won't kiss Mello. Mello then goes on to tell the story about him and Rodney's ""first kiss"". It's not as cutesy as most stories should be. Involving a gang, and a gun, and a long hospital stay.





	My First Kiss

“I mean, you’ve been together for what? Five months? And you’ve known eachother for so long…” Gerry was sitting across from Mello in a boujee coffee shop with a $55 latte in front of him, as he and Mello engaged in a pondering of why Rodney wouldn’t let Mello kiss him. As his boyfriend, it should be allowed. But Dr.Kapernick was a very complex individual who Gerald could not figure out even after knowing him a bit over a year.   
“Well,” Mello said, “I wouldn’t say he doesn’t let anyone but you kiss him. I mean, I’ve kissed him before.” He paused, “Wait-” He instantly regretted saying that and cringed, cursing, “I actually promised him I wouldn’t tell anyone about that. It wasn’t even a kiss, really,”   
“Hm? I want to know now. You started, I’m not gonna let you stop.” Gerald gave Mello a mock-angry expression and then smirked, raising his chin and giving him a hand gesture, “go on,”  
“Listen, Gerry, I just don’t want to make him hate me more than he already does. If he found out you knew about that- he won’t trust me anymore. At least not until I make it up to him. And quite frankly, I really don’t want to kiss up to him and inflate his huge ego anymore.” Mello sighed, tapping his shoe on the floor as he looked away and thought about a shorter version of the story he could tell Gerald without being too graphic.  
“Know about what?” Gerry asked with an innocent smile, “I didn’t hear a thing!” And Mello gave him a rather amused grin, catching on, and taking a breath in.  
“....Alright. So, we had just been sent out on a special ops case, gathering information on a group of men, a gang, they were supposed to be, maybe a cult- and it just so happened that we ran into them when they were out on a nightly ‘hunt.’”

 

“Stay down. I heard them coming over here.” Mello and Rodney were in an alleyway, slowly making their way out, knowing what street their car was parked and trying to manage their way there, without being caught by The Nightwatch. They had guns, nail-ridden bats, brass knuckles, pepperspray, probably tasers. There was no getting out of that. Especially when there were seven of them on two.   
“Then what the hell do you plan to do? Hide like a wuss all night? If we want to go we should just make a run for it.” Rodney got a hand shoving him backwards and was hushed, in retaliation he slammed himself into Mello’s back and made him fall over. “Personal space. Don’t touch me.” He sneered, practically radiating heat. His entire body felt as if on fire; he hated taking orders from Mello when he was in a bad mood- and this time he felt he knew what to do. They could evade the guns by running in an erratic motion- their aim couldn’t be too good when half the gang had at least one of their eyes missing, and the other weapons were very short range so they had a good chance of making it to their destination, or possibly getting a few blocks closer before having to stop again.   
“Jesus. What’s up with you?” Mello pushed himself back to his feet, squatting low to the ground with one hand supporting his weight incase they needed to jump up quickly and run. There was a long silence, and he felt it was an all-clear. “I don’t hear anything. Maybe we should go.” But just as he spoke, there was a loud BANG and someone was screaming, scrambling away; fighting back and hitting the pavement and- Mello sunk back further into the alley, covering his ears and hiding his face, closing his eyes. “Damn, that sounds bad.” He mumbled, “huh?” But Rodney didn’t answer. He waited until the violence stopped, standing back up and leaning against the wall as he inched forward. “Alright. Let’s go, Rodney.” He glanced behind him, but he was alone. Completely alone and abandoned and oh god, that dumb rat couldn’t even land a punch, how the hell did he plan on- there was a crack, another, as someone walked, heavy-footed, slamming their soles into the asphalt.   
“I saw you, come out,” A man chimed, swinging a bat and occupying his other hand on his belt, on his gun. Just as he walked past the alley, Mello was just barely hiding in the shadows. They made eye contact, and he whispered, “found you.” Before diving into the ink of blackness that was the alley that used to be a safe haven, just as Rodney returned when he heard the commotion, to see Mello kick the man back, and the two best friends made terrified eye contact as this criminal had been knocked so far back he had hit and knocked over Rodney, too. He panicked, and as he scrambled to his feet, he fired his gun, three times at Mello, three times at Rodney. The only difference was that Mello was hidden in the obscured dark, Rodney was directly underneath of him. All three shots missed Mello; all three shots hit Rodney. The man bolted, trying to get back to the rest of his “crew” to feel protected and in the dominant numbers once again before their next attack.  
Anyone could hear what just happened. Anyone within a mile radius. Each gunshot, piercing the crisp night air, and the gut-wrenching cry that followed. Mello had never heard his colleague in so much pain, as he rushed to his side and watched as he struggled to breathe, struggled to hold onto composure and rationality as he held his shoulder in a death grip. Mello held his lower arm, and Rodney recoiled as Mello, still phased and almost in denial, examined him. There was a large amount of blood for such a short timespan since he had been shot, and he could tell by the way Dr.Kapernick was crying and whispering under his breath about how he was going to die, something was definitely not right here. He had sustained three gunshot wounds, one to the upper shoulder, one to the inner shoulder, where the arm and chest connect, and one in the upper arm, lower than the last two.   
“Rodney-- hey. Hey,” he whispered, pulling Rodney into his lap, his head resting against his thigh. Someone had to have called for help. God, please. “I’m here. You’re fine. You’re just fine, are you listening to me?”  
“Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh my god, I’m dying, I’m dying, I’m-” He sobbed, biting his lip before crying even harder, curling up, tensing his body until his muscles were all taut and tight. His palm was soaked in blood, and so was the sleeve of his blue shirt. Mello scanned the wounds; they were much worse than he thought. To his shock and disbelief, there was blood already pooling on his thigh.   
“Shit-” The truth and reality finally came down on him. He quickly took action, taking off his overcoat and beginning to tie the most severe wound as tightly as possible, pressing down on the gashes; this make Rodney scream in pain again, and Mello felt like he might vomit. “Stay with me. Hey, Kapernick. I’m talking to you. Stay. Awake.” Mello knew that look. The slight glazed-over eyes and the slowed breathing, the limpening of previously tight muscles. And he felt the panic rising in his chest, and it made his voice crack in fear as he started to cry- albeit rather silently. “Doctor Kapernick.” Mello said again, and this time Rodney made eye contact with him, looking much more peaceful than he was five minutes ago. He had to call for help. But how? He couldn’t just leave Rodney here all alone, and he couldn’t carry the bloody body of his manager into a coffee shop. “Cah….Can you hear me, Rod?” Mello ran his palm down Rodney’s face, cupping his cheek, trying to meet his lifeless eyes once more. His other hand smoothed back his hair, and he felt the stinging feeling in his veins as the tears came on again. There was a delayed, vague nod. “Oh-” He breathed, “good- g-good. I’m here. I just need you to stay awake. Okay?”  
Rodney half-mouthed half-whispered, “It’s numb.”  
“I- wh-what?” Mello wiped his tears quickly, “what is it?” And Rodney broke eye contact again.   
“It doesn’t hurt anymore.” He whispered, long pauses between muted words as Mello looked down, appalled and terrified, to realize how much blood was everywhere. His overcoat was soaked and so was his left pant leg, going all the way down to begin pooling on the asphalt.   
“Christ almighty.” He mumbled, forcing himself to swallow, feeling just a faint bit of hope blink for a moment as he thought he heard sirens. “I-” He whimpered, “I just need you to hang on, okay? Are you listening?” Mello held Rodney by the chin, his manager staring back up at him, though he didn’t look look he was even seeing- just staring through him. “I-I-I… I- I need you to stay awake. Hold on. Listen to me, okay?” His voice was increasing in desperosity and Rodney’s gaze grew half-lidded and his expression was completely lifeless. Mello unbuttoned the top of Rodney’s shirt and reached a hand down his chest, feeling for his heart beat, and when he could hardly feel it, he panicked and tried his pulse point on his neck. Then he breathed out- it was faint, but not too faint. “Listen. If you can’t stay awake- we- remember the meeting we have next week? And how we planned on going down to Sacramento that weekend just to go to one of the shops because they make food you’ve always wanted to try? And- And- this summer we’re going back to my beach house and we’re going to spend a month in the bahamas. Won’t that be great? Just yesterday I got you a new pen to replace the one you snapped in half while you were screaming at me- It’s the same exact kind because I remember what kind you buy and- Oh god, Rodney, please tell me you’re still with me.” But there is no reply. And hardly any pulse. His own heart almost stopped, too, before Mello listened more closely and heard fast approaching vehicles, all sporting loud sirens, and- someone must have called for help after all.  
There were police cars, police men and women, and paramedics from the ambulance. “What is- What is this?” Mello shouted, voice trembling, as the men approached the scene with haste. Two of them approached with a stretcher and others surrounded, taking Rodney from Mello, and he became suddenly defensive. “HEY!” He yelled, “Don’t fucking grab him like that. Be gentle.” Mello shoved the younger paramedic and he cowered back in fear,  
“Sorry sir, but we really need to get him to the nearest hospital. What’s his name?”  
Mello swallowed dryly, “Rodney Kapernick. Check multidimensional search. He’s definitely on there.” They had to search to identify him, and they then had access to all his medical records and all information on him relevant to the hospital setting.  
“Thank you-” he said, then called back to the others who took Rodney to the back of the emergency vehicle, “we need to start chest compressions immediately! His heart rate is low enough to stop beating at any given moment. Someone get on it. CPR.” He then looked back to Mello, “You’re Mello Banks, correct? Rodney is your manager.”  
“Yes.” he forced himself to say, “What’s your point?”  
“You can accompany us, you’re VIP, very important personnel. You’re also licensed. Though- why weren’t you taking any action?” What could he say? That being with his best friend in possibly his last moment was more important than manhandling him and trying to keep him breathing because Rodney is one persistent bitch and if there’s anyone who won’t give up until they’re spent- that’s him. “I said START CPR NOW!” The man quickly walked back towards the car, someone apologized and hopped into the back, straddling Rodney and brushing his hair back, beginning chest compressions- and Mello looked furious. He walked forwards hastily, grabbing this man by the back of the collar, and pulling him off.  
“You aren’t fucking touching him.” He growled in the deepest voice he could manage. The thought of someone- a stranger- performing CPR on Rodney, breathing for him and keeping him alive without any thought or feeling behind it- now that made his blood boil. “I’m doing it.”  
“But- sir--”  
“I said, I’M FUCKING DOING IT.” He yelled, and they had to let him. He was a licensed professional and would obviously put up a fight, so they left him there. Mello took a deep breath, taking the man’s place and slamming the doors shut as the vehicles started up, the sirens screaming to life, as he listened to the very faint beeping on the heart monitor he was hooked up to. Mello cupped the side of Rodney’s face for a minute, staring down, swallowing though he hardly could, as beginning chest compressions. “14, 15, 16, 17,” Mello could feel himself start to get worked up into a cold sweat, “27, 28, 29, 30- shit.” His skin was on fire and he felt light headed, as he breathed in, gently holding Rodney’s chin in one hand, the other rubbing Rodney’s shoulder as if to comfort an unconscious, dying man. “I’m so sorry, Rod.” He mumbled, gently placing his mouth against his manager’s, breathing for him, then resuming chest compressions. Each time he continued rescue breaths, he held Rodney closer and somehow made this into something intimate, like sharing a life with someone for a moment in time. And it was, though he was numb and cold and terrified that at any given time his manager could just quit responding to CPR altogether- they were close. Closer than he’d ever been to anyone else.   
And when they were taking the two out, they were rushing Rodney into the ICU, and Mello waited instead of following them into his room because he couldn’t take much more.  
“Mello,” The same man he had yelled at when they first arrived approached him, “I’m Jeremy Pierce. It’s nice to meet you. Now, come with me, I’ll explain everything I know if you’d be interested.” He smiled, and Mello had no other choice but to follow. “It’s lucky he called us when he did. That gang is trouble, alright. So many reports on them, so many people hurt or even dying- some dead right now because of them. You’re very lucky Kapernick wasn’t shot in the heart.”  
“Wait- what?” Mello perked up slightly, “I get that they’re violent bastards but- he called?”   
“Doctor Kapernick reported gang violence over the local emergency hotline not long before we arrived.” That made sense. Rodney had left to call for help instead of trying to sneak their way back to their car- smart. That’s just what he is, too. He’s a complete genius. Mello was too dumb to think of that. “But the thing is- he’s lost a lot of blood and needs a donor and to be kept on life support until he’s stable again; so we’re keeping him for a while longer. The wounds are in no way fatal, but- we needed to take extra measures to help them clot. He was practically about to totally bleed out.” Mello cringed,  
“Why? What’s the matter with him?” And Doctor Pierce looked at him in surprise.  
“He’s hemophilic. It says so in his medical records. Though it said he has medicine for it- are you far from your home dimension?”  
“Yes, we-” He swallowed and cleared his throat, “we’ve been here for a week or so.” He felt so stupid. He didn’t know anything about that. And he should’ve. He should know everything so he’s able to take every measure to ensure Rodney’s safety. Well, when it was applicable- it’s not like he spent every waking moment trying to protect his superior. Rodney is very tough, but when it comes to anything physical, he was the superior instead. Rodney practically couldn’t hurt a child, and had just about the physical strength as one. Mello felt himself smiling for a moment.  
“Ah, makes sense. He must not have been taking it then. Perhaps he left them back there.” He began writing on his clipboard, pushing up his glasses, and Mello’s stomach dropped as he watched Pierce perform the actions. He had to take a deep breath before speaking again.  
“I’ll donate.”  
“Hmm?” Doctor Pierce stared up at Mello, “I’m sorry?” And Mello glared down at him twice as hard.  
“I’ll donate blood. Rodney is A+. I’m O+. I can donate.” He stated again, more commanding. “I’m not taking no for an-”  
“Well, that’s just great, Doctor Banks! Please follow me!” He was pulled by the arm, by a rather over-enthusiastic Doctor he was beginning to get a bit annoyed with. “We’ll take a pint, or two if you’d be willing- though that much has repercussions so you’ll have to sign off on us being allowed to draw that amount, or else we’ll get in-”  
“Hey, can you stop talking so much? What do I sign.” Mello stated bluntly as Pierce scrambled over to the desk, opening filing cabinets and grabbing him the paper,  
“Please read it and-”  
“Done.” Mello stared blankly at the startled doctor, as he reluctantly took back the paper, and locked the door. As Mello was instructed to lay down in the chair, Pierce began talking to distract him from how large the needle was.  
“It’s so nice to have such high tech equipment. It’s also doubly good in this sort of situation that we’ve done away with the food and drink requirements before donations can be processed. Atleast now we can modify the blood before transfusions and- do you have this sort of thing at your hospital?”  
“Yes,” Mello stated, “we don’t usually need donors, though. We have a very large supply- we keep it frozen in a liquid state. It’s…. Very complicated. I’m not in the mood to explain how it works.” He cringed as the needle penetrated his arm, and he took slow, deep breaths before it was pulled out and a bandage was wrapped around his arm. This was repeated in six different locations in total, three in his left arm, three in his right arm. Mello was feeling very woozy and unstable, and doctor Pierce then had him taken to a hospital room as well. He was put on an IV and given proper nutrients to fill in for how many he lost from the 2 pints taken, and given aid in regenerating the amount of blood lost.   
It wasn’t until three days later they were ready to be admitted, and Mello was strong enough to get up and move. Of course, his first destination was Rodney’s room, 144C, and to pick him up the second he entered, met with the same resistance and struggling as he ever was.  
“Put me down!” He yelled, kicking Mello in the stomach, “Banks, you cunt-” Mello squished him in a hug, refusing to let go, sitting down in the chair beside the hospital bed and brushing the hair out of Rodney’s face as he slowly let him push himself back from said embrace, and they could face each other. He still didn't completely let him go.  
“Hi.” He was grinning- Rodney with bedhead was quite cute considering how different he looked with the usual style of his hair. Rodney’s red hair was very short, and when he washed it and let it dry overnight, or maybe didn’t gel it up one morning, it would curl up a little bit, making him look much less intimidating. Not that 5’1” could be intimidating.  
“I still want my personal space,” Rodney hissed under his breath, voice wavering and his entire face growing hot. See- Rodney didn’t get a lot of attention, physically. Sure he might bump into, or shove, or be shoved by Mello sometimes, but he never had much contact with other people. Just a gentle pat on the shoulder was enough to make him blush, embarrassed and estranged, and it was very fun to mess with him. Mello pulled him back into a hug, smiling, as he mentally closed the gap between sincerity and sarcasm; comedy- and spoke again.  
“I was scared. But I’m glad you’re alright.” and Rodney stopped struggling as much as he was before, accepting it,  
“Why? I’m totally fine.” He remarked, acting like he didn't just get shot multiple times and lost so much blood his heart almost stopped beating.  
“Yeah, because of me.” Mello corrected, “I was the one who stayed with you while the police came, and I’m the one who had to keep you alive the whole ride here. And I, uh-” He stammered, thinking about how embarrassing it was to say, “You lost too much blood so I donated mine.”  
“You did what now?” Rodney raised an eyebrow, awkwardly patting Mello on the back, “Listen, I hope you aren’t expecting me to do the same for you. Because I wouldn’t.” Ow. That hurt. But he understood, as a few weeks prior he didn’t give a damn if Rodney had almost gotten into trouble with his boss; even if he could’ve gotten fired. Why should I care? He had thought. But it really came down to the moment and how losing your best friend really hits you- even if you don’t want to believe that person is as close to you as they really are. You remember all that you have planned, all that you’d like to do with them, and for them; everything you’ve done together, the bad days, the time you’d had to help each other, the fights, the inside jokes and- it was heavier than it seemed.  
“Yeah, it’s fine. You aren’t going to die again on my watch, though.” He noticed how still they were, holding onto each other with a certain sincerity that maybe this wasn’t as weird as it felt at first, and though no one really could talk about it, maybe when Mello kissed Rodney it wasn’t just to save his life.  
“And,” He laughed a little bit, “I’m pretty sure you weren’t the one who kept me alive, Banks. Isn’t that what EMTs are for?” but Mello shut him right up.  
“Okay, first of all, both of us are literally licensed EMTs, and- No,” he stated, confused, “I was the one doing CPR on you, dumbass.” And he felt Rodney stiffen slightly. His whole body tensed up. And since Mello wasn’t holding on, he suddenly pulled back, jumping back onto his feet, and though he grabbed his shoulder, Rodney was still trying to yank backwards. His entire face was flushed and red and he seemed like he could hardly breathe. He looked utterly disgusted.  
“You what?”  
“Would you rather have died, Kapernick?” He asked with a certain bluntness. He didn’t want shit for that. That especially.  
“I’d rather have died than have been kissed by you!”  
“Rodney, I wasn’t kissing you.” He corrected, a vague smile appearing on his face, “If I wanted to kiss you I’d do it like this,” Mello grabbed Rodney and pulled him into his lap, laughing hysterically as Rodney tried to shove him away, frantic and horribly embarrassed, repeating for him to stop and that he was being a gross faggot and he’d kick him in the dick if he didn’t stop.   
“Cool it, I’m not actually gonna kiss you.” He laughed, seeing the angry expression on Rodney’s red face, very embarrassed and worked up.  
“How do I know that? It sure as hell seemed like you wanted to.” and Mello flicked his cheek, and he whimpered, glaring at him. “You’re a huge dick, Banks.”  
“I know.” Mello ruffled Rodney’s hair and he groaned in annoyance.  
“Haven’t you touched me enough today? I’m starting to think you might be gay for me. I mean, I know it’s hard to keep your hands off of someone so attractive, but please.” Rodney shoved his hand away and hopped off of his lap, “I can check myself out. I don’t need you to do it for me.”  
“Never said I was going to,” Mello stated, looking down at how tiny Rodney was compared to him; he had almost forgotten about how easily he could snap Rodney in half if he wanted to. He was almost adorable. “Where do you want to go now that we’re unfucked?” Rodney tapped his foot,  
“Well, perhaps we can go home first, check in with the agency about failing the mission, then order out and stay over at my house?”   
“Sounds like a good time,”  
“Yeah, besides our bosses being on our ass about failing.”  
“I don’t really care. It seems like forever since we’ve actually hung out.”  
“Hm. Alright. But you’re taking the blame for it.”  
“Yeah. Alright.”


End file.
